


In the Dark

by inlovewithnight



Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018)
Genre: Extremely Dubious Consent, Other, Tentacles, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29096643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: A failed job ends with Lando somewhere he doesn't want to be.
Relationships: Lando Calrissian/tentacles
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	In the Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cherryontop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryontop/gifts).



“Tell me, Calrissian.” Kalek Myrr, Prince of Thieves in the underworld of Alebic 8, sounded extremely pleased with himself. “Have you ever encountered a Mairan before?”

“I’ve never even heard of one.” Lando shifted in his chair, slowly working his wrists against the handcuffs. He wasn’t going to be able to pop them, but if he dislocated his thumb he might be able to slip one hand free. _Not the hand you use for your blaster, genius. Let’s not make that mistake twice._

“Perhaps you’ve heard of the Bors, though. They’re often called that, by the imprecise.”

Oh. “You have a Bor? Here? I thought trade in Bors stopped fifty years ago.”

“Please, Calrissian.” Myrr smiled down at him, shoving his hands in the pockets of a robe made of Qetan’an beetle silk. If Lando managed to lift that thing on his way out, it would more than pay for this whole stupid failed run. “Trade in Bors was _outlawed_ fifty years ago. I am the Prince of Thieves. Laws mean little to me.”

Lando drew a deep breath, then let it go, working to get his thumb into position where he could press and pry it out of joint. “Illegal possession isn’t theft, though.”

Myrr blinked. “What?”

“It doesn’t have much to do with being Prince of Thieves. Unless you stole it.” Lando shrugged. “I mean, I suppose it doesn’t matter, since you’re planning to let your pet Bor eat my brain, but—”

“Bor Tannit is not a pet. I find our work goes much better when I treat her as a colleague.” Myrr turned away and walked across the room, pressing a button on the wall that caused a warning alarm to go off somewhere nearby, followed by the clunk of a divider opening. “She’s happy and well-kept, not abused and tortured like most of the others out there. It makes her less motivated to destroy your mind and content to simply… play with it.”

Lando frowned. “So you’re not going to torture me?”

“Oh, it’s still torture, my friend.” The sound of a heavy body dragging itself along approached the grate in the wall under the button. Myrr opened the grate and stepped back. “The difference is you won’t lose your mind to escape from it. You’ll stay aware all the way through. You’ll understand if I excuse myself, though. Bor Tannit has a certain amount of mucus involved in keeping her skin healthy. I can hardly be expected to get that on my robe. I’ll return in an hour, Calrissian, and we’ll talk some more. I look forward to it!”

The door slammed shut behind him, and the lock buzzed as it sealed. The heavy drag of flesh on stone got closer to the open grate, and now Lando could hear the gentle squelch of mucus, too, since Myrr had called his attention to it. 

He tried to remember what he’d heard about Bors, besides the obvious things where they could dig through your brain, find and erase your memories, and drive you mad from horror and agony. Not much, it turned out; the stories tended to focus on exactly those parts. 

A long, tapered limb emerged from the grate, patting delicately at the floor and then swinging back and forth to gauge the width it needed to move through. The skin was indeed wet with mucus, and a soft gray-green that flushed deeper at the tip.

Tentacles. He did remember now, hearing that Bors had tentacles.

Lando licked his lips and pushed the cuff as hard as he could against his thumb, willing the joint to pop. “Hey there, Bor Tannit. Why don’t you just stay in that nice, uh, tunnel you have there? It’s no fun in here. Nothing exciting. Go back to your… house or cage or whatever they keep you in, get some sleep, maybe try again tomorrow, by which point I’ll be halfway across the galaxy…”

He could not find the right angle to dislocate the damn thing. He did split the skin, though, sending blood running down to his wrist and dripping to the floor. 

The tip of the tentacle lifted, wiggling like it could feel the coppery tang in the air.

_No. Dammit, Calrissian. How do you always manage to make just the right mistake?_

Two more tentacles appeared, bracing themselves flat on the floor and hauling the Bor’s body forward until the whole thing emerged into the room. It—she—was huge, dripping, the same gray-green all over, with small, dark eyes that fixed on Lando in a squinty way. Maybe she didn’t like the light in here. Maybe he could find a way to use that.

“Hey there,” he said again, trying to keep his voice light and friendly. “You don’t want anything to do with me. I’m no fun at all. Why don’t you just—”

But before he could say anything else, Bor Tannit was crossing the floor to him, her tentacles pulling her along surprisingly quickly for her size. A smaller tentacle, maybe the same one that had first peeked into the room and sensed his blood, reached out to caress his face, and his mind was instantly flooded with a sense of—of green, and wet, and _]question?[_

It was a pressure inside of his head, the sense of something that didn’t belong there inexorably working its way in, forcing what was already there to make room for it. Bor Tannit’s mind shouldered Lando’s aside. True to what Myrr had said, she didn’t seem inclined to destroy anything, she just didn’t care what might be bruised as she made her way in.

_]question?[_

Lando had never met one of these things before. He had no idea how to communicate with her. But the most logical question when you were encountering someone new was probably _who are you_ or _what are you_ , so he clenched his teeth against the pain and tried to pull together a steady thought at the forefront of his mind.

_Lando Calrissian. Human._

The sense of questioning backed off for a moment. _]puzzlement. surprise.[_

That seemed like progress. Lando took a breath and tried to prepare another thought, maybe his own question for her, but his concentration was knocked aside by the feeling of more tentacles settling on his body, probing curiously against his arms and sides and the torn remains of his shirt.

_]question???[_

_Please stop_ , he thought, trying to push the idea forward like he had with his name and species. _Negation, dislike, stop, no._

The tentacles went still for a moment, and Bor Tannit’s black eyes widened a bit. She traced the smaller tentacle along his jaw, up to his forehead, and then carefully tapped the tip of it along the curve of his eye sockets. Apparently realizing that those were delicate, she moved to his nose, found the size of his nostrils too small to examine, and slipped the tip into the corner of his mouth instead.

The mucus didn’t taste entirely terrible. It was sour, but only mildly so, and that was only a note on top of a kind of rich umami. Then again, this was a tentacle that seemed to be used for more delicate things. The ones that pulled Bor Tannit along the floor probably tasted quite bad.

_No_ , he thought again, _stop_ , but in return he received a firm _]denial. instruction.[_ that wasn’t hard to translate as _No, be still._

The tentacle moved carefully around his mouth, tapping at his teeth and tongue. He couldn’t imagine that biting it would get him anywhere, especially not with the heavier tentacles wrapped around his torso, so he kept breathing and tried to stay still, until it slipped to press at the back of his tongue and he gagged.

_]surprise![_ Bor Tannit pulled back again, resting the tentacle against his neck. It was wet with his own spit now as well as the mucus, a heavy slickness that dripped down his throat so slowly it felt like something crawling.

One of the larger tentacles slid across his abdomen, pushing the remains of his shirt up out of the way so it could, as far as he could tell, count his ribs and then circle his navel. 

_]acknowledgement. recognition.[_

“We’ve never met,” Lando said, trying to catch the joint of his thumb on the cuffs again. The cut from earlier blazed in pain as he did, and the Bor uttered a sharp noise paired with the inside of Lando’s head exploding with _]shock dislike instruction[_.

“You can feel when it hurts, huh?” He took another breath and tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling. “Well, that’s interesting. If you don’t like it when we’re in pain, why do they use you for torturing prisoners?”

Blankness. Too complex a question, apparently. She didn’t understand.

Or maybe she had other things on her mind. A second large tentacle joined in the exploration of his body, while the others stayed wrapped around him and pinning him to the chair. Those tentacles were clumsy and inefficient compared to the one still resting on his throat, but their tips were mobile enough to flick at his nipples and drag a warm, wet line down the center of his sternum.

One of them found the fly of his trousers and probed awkwardly at the button. Lando exhaled sharply and thought _No_ again, as firmly as he could. 

_]insistence. anticipation.[_

Lando snorted despite himself. “Oh, so you’ve done this before?”

The pressure in his head grew, just shy of too much. Bor Tannit apparently wanted him to remember that she could destroy him if she wanted to and it would barely take an effort. Lando exhaled slowly, trying to keep his fear under control. He might not know all the rules of Bors, but feeding a telepathic creature that could kill you into a cycle of fear and panic seemed like a bad idea.

The tentacles proved not quite nimble enough to undo the bottons, and simply grabbed hold of the two pieces of fabric and ripped them apart instead. Lando held on to what dignity he could as his trousers were discarded and his skin exposed to the cool air of the cell. _Slowly_ , he thought. _Gently. Please._

_]puzzlement. indifference.[_

Lando spread his legs a bit, trying to demonstrate that cooperation was a possibility, since the Bor didn’t seem interested in decoding his thoughts anymore. He earned a gentle pat on his cheek from the small tentacle—praise, maybe? Positive reinforcement? He brought his heels up to the edge of the chair so he could boost himself up off the seat a little, enough for the tentacles to slide under him. Sitting on them was like a muscular, padded seat, although a sticky one. Bor Tannit seemed pleased by his actions, anyway. He got another pat on the face and the little tentacle stroked his hair, leaving it slick and probably awkwardly clumpy. 

He would worry about washing his hair later, though. Right now he needed to figure out how to help the Bor do whatever she wanted, so she could get it over with without hurting him any more than necessary. He didn’t want to scare her into tearing his mind apart, or frustrate her into ripping his body. He needed to focus. Pay attention to what she was doing. Try to anticipate her next action, and how he could make it easier.

Bor Tannit fixed those shiny black eyes on him again. They were so small, compared to her body mass; vision must not be important to her kind. Whatever information they gathered through their tentacles must be much more key. Lando took a careful breath and turned his face toward the small tentacle, opening his mouth a little to attract its attention. 

It slipped inside his mouth again, probing eagerly, and he tried for some reinforcement of his own, concentrating on positive thoughts when it moved slowly or with care and negative ones when it shoved its way around. The larger tentacles kept winding around his torso and thighs, pushing his legs wider apart, and he couldn’t be sure that his efforts were having any effect on them, but Bor Tannit wasn’t tearing him to shreds yet, so if nothing else he was buying time.

The anticipation kept getting worse. Maybe he should ask for it, think in images. On the other hand, there was still a chance the Bor would change her mind. Maybe he should—

And then there was no more time, because the tip of one of the tentacles pressed up against his opening and poked at it experimentally.

Lando was not an inexperienced man, sexually speaking. He had spent both meaningful and meaningless hours with individuals and small groups sporting a wide variety of body types and appendages. Hell, he had participated in a nesting ceremony with a X’ciclid, including use of an ovipositor dildo. 

But in all those cases, he had been able to communicate with his partners and know he would be heard. With Bor Tannit, he had no idea if she would recognize his reactions, or care about them. Pushing fear or pain at her mentally might send her into a panic where she wiped his mind. Physically struggling was virtually impossible at this point, as her heavy tentacles were wrapped securely around him and her weight was holding him to the chair. His hands were still cuffed. Her small tentacle was stroking his throat, a reminder that she could also choke him at any moment she chose.

The best thing he could do was to be still, keep his mind blank, and breathe.

Bor Tannit moved slowly, like she wasn’t entirely sure what she was exploring. Maybe she wasn’t; maybe this was the same as probing a cleft in a rock, to her. The mucus coating her tentacle eased its entry a little, though he felt grit from the floor collecting at the stretched-tight, tender skin of his entrance as the intrusion continued. 

Lando dragged each breath through clenched teeth, his head tilted back. The grip of the other tentacles around him was almost welcome, because it supported his body, holding him up while he almost definitely wouldn’t be able to himself. Bor Tannit pressed, and pressed, and suddenly the stretch inside him was right at the edge of too much to bear. His mind gathered itself in self-preservation, flinging a sharp wave of _No!_.

And Bor Tannit stilled.

_]question? negation?[_

Lando let himself gasp for air now. He didn’t know how to respond to that—if he sent back a sense of agreement, would the Bor understand that he meant _yes, negation_ or think he wanted her to continue? The communication barrier was insurmountable; the one message he’d gotten through, a fluke. All he could do was wait for what the Bor did next, of her own free will.

The small tentacle pulled away from his throat and patted at his face, then moved clumsily to slide back and forth over his mouth. 

_]puzzlement. caution?[_

He would appreciate caution, yes. He pushed that sense of agreement forward in his mind, feebly compared to the previous burst of thought, but maybe enough.

Bor Tannit withdrew the intruding tentacle a bit, enough that Lando could take almost a full breath without fear. _Yes_ , he thought, _correct, positive, gratitude, good things. Yes._

The Bor made a soft sound, and patted his mouth again, flat and careful.

When she moved the tentacle inside him again, it was side to side instead of thrusting deeper. He hadn’t imagined that sensation as even a possibility, and he gasped, body arching in the hold of her other limbs. She made another small sound and tried another pattern of motion, this one a withdrawal and thrust with a _rotation_ , sweet forgotten ghosts of the Force.

_]positive?[_

He couldn’t manage a coherent thought, only the equivalent of white noise. It seemed to satisfy her.

_]affirmation. confidence. intent to continue.[_

Lando let his head fall back again, and found that one of the other tentacles had moved to the back of the chair and settled itself where he could rest on it. The sliminess made his skin crawl, but the support was appreciated, and the warmth of it was almost pleasant.

_Acquiescence_ , he thought wearily at the Bor. He could give himself up to this. It was something new, after all, and she didn’t seem to want to hurt him. If she kept trying those rotational thrusts, he might even achieve a climax out of it, and a story that would buy him drinks in questionable bars everywhere.

He let his mind drift a little, riding the currents of sensation. It wasn’t the Bor’s fault, after all. They were only semi-sentient, and she was following her nature. The man who kept her here, though. The man who controlled the door that let her in and out of this room.

When Lando got out of this chair and got his hands on Kalek Myrr, he would see if he could arrange for Bor Tannit to be taken back to her home world before he had the Prince of Thieves’ palace razed to the ground.

**

Lando left the planet piloting Myrr’s personal shuttle, which was in considerably better shape than the ship he’d arrived in. He deserved an upgrade after all that, after all. And if the shuttle also held Myrr’s wardrobe and collection of fancy boots—well, that was a side benefit. All the Qetan’an beetle silk Lando could ever need.

Supposedly, a cargo vessel was taking a sedated Bor Tannit back to where she’d come from. Lando couldn’t say for sure if they would get there; the galaxy was full of surprises. But he’d done his best, and now he was putting the whole experience behind him. 

Or so he told himself.

After two days of piloting in listless circles with no real destination in mind, Lando turned the shuttle’s comm device to a band that smugglers and pirates often used for general, non-incriminating discussions. “Salos Major here,” he said, dusting off an alias he hadn’t used in a while. “Has anyone had a visual on the Millennium Falcon lately?”

The first few responses were the usual _Have you checked up your ass?_ and _In your clutch-mother’s bed, eating eggshells_ , but eventually one came through saying _Saw it two days back at Vantara Station_.

That was plenty of time for Han and his Wookiee friend to be anywhere else, but Lando didn’t have any other leads. He dialed up the shuttle’s hyperdrive and ran the calculations for Vantara Station, a rinky-dink little space outpost in a haphazard orbit around Vantar 8.

The Falcon was still docked; he saw her as soon as he made his initial approach. A hot flash of possessiveness bloomed in his chest—that was _his_ ship, with L3’s files still humming away in her circuits. He could sneak around in the station and steal it back instead of tracking Han down. He could see if the shuttle’s barely-passable weapons were enough to break the locking clamp and set the Falcon free. He could—

_Identify yourself_ , came a bored voice over the comms. _Docking at Vantara Station is open to all, but identity logging and ship registration is required._

Lando hauled himself back to reality and gave his Salos Major identity information again. He wouldn’t be here long enough for it to be flagged, most likely. He didn’t have any reason to be here at all. Just tracking down an old acquaintance, to see if he could get a drink out of it and forget some things.

He set the autopilot to dock the shuttle and went back to the wardrobe, choosing a beetle-silk cape and a pair of Myrr’s boots. He looked good in them. Debonair. Successful. The kind of man who had secrets but also had enough money to keep them that way. Lando liked the idea of that. Better than being the kind of man who wasn’t sleeping well and was running around the galaxy looking for a friend, anyway.

Once onboard the station, it didn’t take him long to find Han and the Wookiee—Chewbacca, he remembered when he saw them. They were in the station’s worst bar, of course, taking bets on a knife-throwing contest where Chewbacca was slated to go last. Lando couldn’t believe the ruffians lined up at their table couldn’t see where this was going.

“Lando?” Han grinned and tucked his stack of markers into his pocket as he made his way across the room. “Didn’t expect to see you out here in the middle of nowhere!”

“Well, sometimes we all need to lay low for a bit.” Lando returned Han’s handshake and pat on the arm, flashing his best smile. “How’s my ship? I saw her when I was docking, it looks like she’s still in one piece.”

“My ship now, buddy.” Han laughed and waved at the sour-faced waitstaff droid. “Corellian liquor for me and my friend, here. And for Chewie,” he added when the familiar outraged howl came from over by the target board. “I wouldn’t forget you, you know that.”

“So what brings you two out here?” Lando leaned back against the wall, trying to control the jumpiness that was trying to seize his body. He hated feeling like this, restless and on full alert when there was no reason to be. It was a space station garbage-pit bar. He was at home here. There was nothing that could surprise him. And he even had that friend he’d been looking for, so his blind side could be looked after.

Han seemed to notice he wasn’t himself, frowning at him as he answered. “Oh, you know, the usual… dropping off one set of cargo, picking up another. There’s a gap in between, our contact isn’t coming in until tomorrow.” The droid rolled up with their drinks, and Han took a deep swallow before putting his hand on Lando’s arm again. “Are you doing all right? No offense, but you look terrible.”

“I’m fine.” Lando shook him off and sipped his own drink. Corellian liquor was awful, too sweet and with a strange oiliness on the tongue. He could easily put away a whole bottle tonight if he wasn’t careful. “Got wounded on a job and couldn’t get to bacta as soon as I wanted. Ran me down a little.”

“Oh.” Han clearly didn’t believe it, but he turned back to the knife-throwing match, where Chewie was just about to step up to the line. “This should be good, watch this. Too bad you didn’t get here in time to bet.”

“Just means you’re buying.” Lando watched as, of course, Chewie’s knife landed dead-center in the box marked _highest score_. “The booze _and_ dinner.”

“What a surprise, you not being willing to contribute.” There was no bite in Han’s words, though, and when he came back from trading his markers for credits, he jerked his head toward the door. “Come on. We can get some food and a bottle and take it all back to the Falcon. Chewie will meet us there later, he has to pretend he doesn’t know me.”

“I’m familiar with that feeling.” It was a relief being around Han, something Lando hated to admit but couldn’t hide from. The idea of being on the Falcon was even better, sitting down with two people he more or less trusted, a meal, and some drinks. His back would be safe for a little longer.

Han gave him a sidelong glance as they walked to the Falcon’s docking port, their hands full of sloppily-wrapped skewers of meat and vegetables wrapped in flatbread. “And you know, you’re welcome to stay with us while you’re on-station. Why keep the power running on your ship if you don’t have to, right?”

If he was really this easy to read, Lando badly needed a break before he tried to go back out and hustle someone. “Guess it depends on how drunk we get tonight.”

“Ha. That’s true. And you know, we could use a third set of hands on this next job, if you don’t have something waiting for you. We’re going out to Alderaan and back. Should be a good payout. If you want.”

How Han could still be this much of an eager baby Chandrilan sand-dog, Lando had no idea, but he was grateful for it. “Sounds pretty good. Just let me get my clothes off the shuttle and sell the damn thing.”

“Of course.” Han grinned at him and hit the panel to open the ramp into the Falcon. “Good to have you back, pal.”

Lando would never admit it, but he agreed.


End file.
